


Dulce Et Decorum Est...

by ProbablyBeatrice



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Barricade Day, Barricade Day 2018, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Implied Relationships, Kidnapping, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 13:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyBeatrice/pseuds/ProbablyBeatrice
Summary: ...pro patria mori.“It had taken Grantaire months to find him...The man who he remembered was a far cry from the broken body in front of him.”





	Dulce Et Decorum Est...

It had taken Grantaire months to find him.

Months of calling in countless favours, of attempting to help in the nationwide man-hunt, of staring at the empty space in Café Musain where Enjolras would joke with his friends or give passionate speeches on freedom and liberty. Months of trial and tribulations that had alienated him from the other members of Les Amis de l’ABC, forced him into a protective shell as he hunted for the place that Enjolras had disappeared to. The man who he remembered was a far cry from the broken body in front of him.

Even in death, Enjolras looked like some sort of god. His blond curls were dirtied and his skin was covered in scars, but not even the cruelest of tortures could dim the bright spirit that had burned inside him. Grantaire choked back a sob when he saw his cerulean eyes, terrifyingly vacant. He closed them quickly, not wanting to have to look anymore; it was horrifying to see those eyes, usually filled with passionate fire, empty. Empty, like Grantaire felt. Empty, like the promises that he had made to his friends. The promises that he would find him and bring him home safely.

“Alright, you sick bastards!" he managed to yell, addressing the empty warehouse, voice echoing. "You've lured me here, but you've made a big mistake." He waited for a few seconds to let his words sink in, continuing more quietly to himself. "He was the sun, and you've killed him. If you thought this would make me of use to you, it won't. He's gone, and I've got nothing left." It hurt him to say that, hurt his heart and his head to confirm that Enjolras was dead. It hurt him to confirm that his friends had left him alone after a while of his obsessive searching.

He heard footsteps behind him, approaching at a leisurely pace. He refused to turn around, keeping his gaze stoically fixed on Enjolras.

“We told him that we killed you, you know. We thought that it would coerce him into revealing more secrets about his precious revolution,” a voice told him, some sort of device distorting it beyond recognition. Grantaire refused to turn around or cry, ignoring the newcomer. “It broke him.”

At this, Grantaire sank down to his knees, clutching at the stone-cold hand of Enjolras. ‘It broke him’. Enjolras, the fierce revolutionary, the idealist, the one who practically radiated light, whose passion was infectious. He had been broken. Grantaire began to cry softly, salty tears cleaving lines down his dirty face. All of the pain and fear that he had bottled up for months on end was now coming to light. He closed his eyes calmly as he felt cold gunmetal against the back of his head.

“Please.”

Bang.

Grantaire fell forwards beside Enjolras, eyes flickering for a second before coming to rest on the other man's face, causing him to smile softly. Then he moved no more. His eyes would remain blank and empty.

**Author's Note:**

> I realise that this is short, I just wanted to write something for Barricade Day really quickly!  
> ‘Happy’ Barricade Day, guys!


End file.
